


Noir Sketch

by Toshi_Nama



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Gen, Modern
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 09:42:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15021887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshi_Nama/pseuds/Toshi_Nama





	1. Chapter 1

_ “There’s always a skirt,” my once-partner (and still friend) told me.  Didn’t matter what color she came in, or even race.  She’d be in some kind of trouble – sometimes shaking with it and shy, sometimes bold and trying to hide it.  But no one came to the Hanged Man unless there was trouble, and if it was a skirt, it would be worse.  At least the scenery made up for it.  _

Of course, now that I’ve taken over that end of the business,  _ I’m  _ the skirt, so his advice and logic can get dropped into the harbor with all the other garbage Kirkwall still manages to produce.  Though he was right on one thing: no one accidentally walked into the Hanged Man.

I suppose now is when I should recite my list of charms, my height, my love of Antivan whiskey – but those have all been laid out in excruciating detail.  If you don’t know them, better for me.  Anyone who wants to find things knows what table I use as an office, and that’s good enough.  And for those who think excessive cleavage and fluttering eyelashes will get them a discount, they learn better pretty quickly.

Like the one looking at me in shock right now.  “But…I don’t have that much!”  Her coal-black eyes stared into mine, but not for long.  The green was unnerving to most.  ‘Emerald,’ admirers call it – including the permanent guest in my bedroom.  Others just called them green, or uncanny, or… “Demon-eyes,” she muttered, looking down.  “You’re heartless, messere.”

I thanked heaven – or Haven – or the Inquisitor – that not many recognized me these days.  All the travel helped, too, but at least Varric’s damned book had finally fallen out of the popular memory and off the best-seller lists, and I’d never dealt well with the reporters.  Then again, he’d always exaggerated my charms.  Instead, I leaned back with my glass of white (chilled), and just looked her over.  Hightown clothes, Lowtown accent.  Another of those who’d made it after the Chantry explosion, if I had to guess.  I made a mental bet: blackmail, or inconvenient relatives.  “Messere,” I repeated her, “you knew my rates when you found me.  And if you asked any questions at all, you know I very rarely bargain.  If you can’t pay, I suggest heading toward Darktown.  There are a few free agents there which work for…” I eyed her, “other payments, as well.”

She gasped.  “Are you suggesting –“

I just snorted.  “If you walk into the Hanged Man looking like that, you’ve already gotten three offers on your way to the table.”  She flushed.  “But no, not really.  Darktown, they’ll work for legitimacy, too.  For a way out and into the light.”  Something I didn’t need.  I’d already paid that bill, and in blood.

She sighed.  “They can’t help me.  They’re not discreet.”

And that was the stock in trade Varric had used to build the business – and that I’d kept, even before I’d taken over.  Names stayed with me, even if I passed him carefully edited descriptions for his damned serial.  “Then pass over the deposit, cash, and start talking.”

Her eyes flickered.   _ ‘Rule one: there’s always a skirt.  Rule two: they always lie.’   _ Ah, Varric was cynical, heartbroken and reliant on Bianca at his side.  But this one was going to lie, I decided, as she dropped down a small wad of bills.  She’d been ready to pay.  And out her story came, from her blood-red lips.  I was still astonished people actually dressed like that, as much as I’d seen.

I tapped my lower lip.  “Fine.  I’ll ask some questions.  Your retainer will get you that much, messere…?”  I trailed off.

“Do you really need my name?”

It was all I could do to keep from rolling my eyes.  “No, I can just ask questions about a child, and keep the answers to myself.”  The disgust made my tone more biting than I’d intended, but it had the desired effect.  “Yes, I need a name.  And an address.  This is my office, but I don’t live here any more than you do.”

“Email?”

“You know better than that.”  I had my office, and my rep - but you couldn’t  find me online.  Not with everything….unpleasant.  The Champion’s secret wasn’t much of a secret any longer, but I’d rather not paint a target on my back.

“Lady Travertine.”  Assumed.  And…yes, a Hightown address, not far from a nondescript path into Lowtown.  And with that, she flounced back out.

It wasn’t much longer until the elf at the bar, heavily built for his kind, stalked over and dropped into the same chair she’d just left, with surprising grace.  He’d brought his whiskey, and the light played off his silver hair and blue-white tattoos.  “She’s lying.”  His voice was low, but never failed to make my bones ache.

I just poured another glass and smiled.  “Of course she is, Leto.  But the description is right.  Another mage-gifted child, vanished as soon as her powers started to show.  The woman didn’t move like a Templar…”  I let my voice trail off.  It was the elf in front of me who knew them better.

He sighed.  “She is not, whatever she may be.  She wasn’t carrying - nothing more than a switchblade, at least.  And even now, not many know the early signs well enough to fool a mage.”

I met my lover’s eyes – a gorgeous jade-green, and sighed back.  Yes, that was the catch – and why I knew I was going to take this one on, even if we didn’t really need the money at the moment.  We certainly had at other points, and it didn’t hurt to build up a reserve.  The ‘mage’ part was why I’d kept a low profile, after I let Varric trot me out for a couple key speeches – because for years, until the war and the new Divine had made it all moot, there’d been another word attached.  ‘Apostate.’  And ‘Champion,’ which made it all very awkward, even after Knight-Commander Meredith’s death.  At…my hand.  To be fair, she’d tried to take my head first, but Templars in Kirkwall weren’t always known for being ‘fair.’  They didn’t have to answer to the media - they were cowed long ago.  And for some reason, cameras didn’t work well around them.  “I’ll look into it, at least a bit.”  He’d already counted, then palmed the money on the table, so we were in.  

“You’ve changed, Amata.”

“And you say that every time, Leto.”  A familiar exchange.  “Who hasn’t, from the war?  Besides, it’s this or getting a – Maker help us – real job, with a salary, and all the attendant strings attached.”  He snarled.  The main ‘string’ was that with a steady job, we couldn’t jaunt after slavers whenever he found another ring.  “Come on, love.  Let’s find something to eat and head back to the Estate.”

**

He bought meat pies from a Lowtown vendor, and handed me one – hot against my scarred palm, but I wasn’t going to complain, not with the smell it let off, a promise of better to come.  It was also a chance to start spreading the coin we’d gotten.  Not that a magical trace would last long around Fenris - what had been done to him also meant he was death to enchantments - but it helped if it wasn’t all in one place.  We’d learned both tricks, after a few early jobs had almost gone bad.  ‘Early’ as in ‘pre-Chantry.’  He tucked two pies into a handkerchief, and bit into the fourth, juice dripping from his chin.  He glared at it, and I had to laugh.  He’d found something that annoyed him, that he couldn’t simply attack.  Then I glanced up.  “We’d best hurry, or we’ll be soaked.”

You can’t hurry through Lowtown, not on a market day just before sundown, even if you couldn’t see the sun behind the thunderclouds.  We hadn’t made it more than a few blocks before the sky let loose and sheets of water dropped on the city, flattening the dust before it started splashing up, the ground too hard for the soupy mixture to do anything else.  I gave a dark-haired guard a wink - one he returned.  At least I still had a few friends, even if the Captain hadn’t forgiven me for continuing to clean up her messes.  A good woman, but even now she wasn’t flexible enough for the City of Chains, and Kirkwall either bent you, or broke you.  When I had the time, I did what I could to keep it from doing either to her.  It was my fault she’d wound up here in the first place.

All of this, as we made our way lower, then slipped into Darktown.  Even the rain stayed away, only eerie drips making it through the layers of people and rotting wood over our heads.  I started to shiver, as the last of the clean water dripped off my wide-brimmed hat and onto my neck.  The rolled-up side was perfect for fashion twenty years ago - or an Apostate when she dared wear her staff - but meant water was channeled straight down my spine.  Not that it made much difference, when my shirt was already soaked through and my sensible skirt glued to my thighs.

“Ugh.”  His disgusted noise summed up the journey perfectly, as I fished out the key and opened the basement entrance.  “Why were we out in this?”

I ticked off my fingers as I jammed the door shut again.  “One, it didn’t look like rain when we headed over.  Two, we haven’t had a cook since the first time we left Kirkwall.  Three, you ‘had a feeling.’”  He’d started up the stairs, and I followed.  “Four, there’s nothing wrong with lining our nest a little against the next dry spell - or the next slaver ring you uncover.  Good works, those, but not well paying.  Fifth…”

And he’d turned as soon as he set the last pastries down.  I only had a moment to trace the lines of the tattoos against his dark skin, the shadows showing against his shirt, nearly transparent from the downpour.  And then he was pressed against me, and the reasons didn’t matter any longer.


	2. Chapter 2

I opened a second bottle of wine and brought a glass to Fenris.  He was deep into the computer, hack...no, he prefered the term ‘data harvesting.’  It just didn’t much matter to him whether the data was on social media, from idiots who had no idea how much of their lives they’d shared, or buried inside an encrypted system.  He’d tossed on sweatpants, and had the tinted glasses he preferred for serious computer work pushed up on the bridge of his nose.  He leaned back to snatch a kiss.  “Nothing yet.”

I shook my head.  “Four that we know of, Fenris.  But no connections that I can see.  Did you get anything on her that I can print out?”  I’d kept hold of the descriptors from the other children, everything we’d thought might be related - but there was something missing.  Four mage-gifted children, lifted out of Kirkwall in a matter of months.  The city was dark and much more cynical than it’s new Viscount, but not  _ that  _ dark.  This should not be happening.  When he nodded, I moved over and grabbed the printouts that came silently out, then took them over to the table.

Marguerite, aged eight.  Taken from the Lowtown market, in bright daylight.  Long black hair, and bright, twinkling blue eyes.  Gaelus, aged seven.  Vanished when hiking with his Hightown family, just outside the city.  Blonde hair, blue eyes and a puppy, who’d vanished as well.  Aemissan, aged ten.  He and his parents were in Darktown for some reason.  His parents died to an apparent gang fight, and he vanished.  The only reason I was brought in was because Merrill had seen signs of magery, and hinted to the hahren that perhaps it wasn’t just gang violence.  Sun-streaked brown hair, pale green eyes, even lighter than Fenris’ jade.  It was then I’d started wondering if there was a connection...and now, the fourth.  Sophia, aged ten.  Chocolate-dark skin and a riot of beautiful ebony hair - vanished, according to ‘Lady Travertine,’ from her bed three nights ago, her cell phone still on her nightstand.  Kids, with cellphones - but nothing the family could use to track her.  It was all I could do to not punch the wall.  Again.  But it hadn’t helped last time, and wouldn’t now.  

I narrowed my eyes as what I’d told him snuck back in.   _ ‘That we know of.’   _ “Fenris?”  He grunted back from his computer, fingers still moving.  “How many children...um, between six and eleven, have disappeared over the last four months?”  We needed more information, as much I didn’t want to hear what felt right.  This was bigger than four children...though, four children all showing mage-talent at the same time was odd enough...no, not so much now that the Circles were gone.  I swore, trying out some of the more colorful phrases I’d picked up from the Hanged  Man.  I stared at the papers, demanding they make sense.  Give me a lead to follow, _ something.  _  They just sat there, as worthless as before Fenris had printed them out.

Hands pulled me back against a smooth chest as Fenris came up behind me.  “Kalindra, enough.  Staring won’t change things.  You’re best when you’re out on the streets, you know that.”

_ ‘She wore the city like an old pair of boots: comfortable and familiar, she knew every crevice.’   _ Varric’s tripe ran through my head, but it was truer than he’d ever realized.  My first years in Kirkwall, I’d turned his ‘Things found’ business from a side hustle to something as profitable as the ‘literature’ he wrote for his publishers.   _ Without  _ the credit, but I just cared about the money in my account then.

I sighed and leaned against him.  “I know, but it’s  _ children,  _ Leto.”

“Then we will find them.”  At least his voice was certain.  “Besides, don’t we have an...engagement, tonight?  Maybe you can put out new feelers.”

_ Engagement.  A pretty set of words, for visiting a club/brothel and dancing with criminals.   _ “We do.”  And he was right - I hadn’t asked around there, but this was the second Hightown kid who’d vanished.  And there were plenty of people at the Blooming Rose who’d be interested in some Hightown gratitude.


	3. Chapter 3

The Blooming Rose had a strict no weapons policy.  Not an issue for Fenris, who’d studied more martial arts than I knew existed.  He checked his slim semi-auto with the bouncer as he paid the cover.  The man - colorful tattoos over the backs of his hands and something Dalish around his bicep - was an old friend of Gamlen’s.  Sometimes, family was useful, not that I had much left these days.  It was enough to keep his attention to a swift once-over.  At the Rose, I certainly wasn’t the least dressed in the slinky black number with cutouts all down the hip - but it still stood out among the paying customers.  So did the platinum-and-emerald earrings, choker and bracelets.  They’d been Mother’s, and I needed to show flash here.  Here, I had to be Hightown.  It was just another game, just another face to the City of Chains.  

The bouncer had a partner tonight, though...one who made me grateful I’d left my collapsing staff back at the Estate, relying on brains and Fenris rather than my own power.  Templar.  And  _ decidedly  _ armed - he didn’t even try to keep it from printing.  That was also outside his other abilities - I felt the magic nullification as his eyes also wandered, considering me scenery, rather than a threat.  Good enough - but  _ Templars?   _

Of course.  Cartels - that meant Carta, and the dwarven cartel controlled the lyrium...which controlled the Templars.  They were here to ensure their own supply, and keep an eye out for any unregistered mages - apostates - who might be looking to pick some up themselves.  I’d never been desperate enough to deal with the Carta directly, even before I’d gotten off the stuff.  It was good for increasing your power, but the drug charged one hell of a bill.

Fenris stalked off to grab a drink as I leaned against a convenient pillar, glancing around.  The black light and strobes mixed strangely, moving in time with the thumping music.  Then I saw the guard I’d winked at earlier, all suited up.  “Donnic, m’love.”  I’d gotten close enough for him to hear me before he’d even noticed.

He turned around and, even with the ring on his finger, gave me a once-over.  “Kalindra - I should have expected you here.” His voice was resigned.  He didn’t like my keeping up the business, despite how helpful it had been.  Then again, he slept with the Captain, who  _ really  _ didn’t like to admit it  _ was  _ helpful.  At least I knew she’d never be caught dead in a place like this.  How Aveline stayed so straight-laced even after a decade in the city, and after taking over the chickenshit operation the city guard had been, I still couldn’t fathom.  Fenris said it was better to just accept some things and move on.  Odd to hear from him, but it stuck.  Either way, Donnic was here and at least accepting of my presence, if not happy.  He wouldn’t blow my cover, or the job.  Probably.

Ah, the joys of dancing with a friend - who was also part of the city guard.  “Of course - where else would I be on a Thursday?”  I tossed my mane of red hair over my shoulder.  “But you, slumming?”  Even I wouldn’t suggest he was here to sample the wares.

His gaze flickered as he ignored the sass.  “Where’s Fenris?  You’re not here alone, are you?  Tonight…”  He stopped himself.

_ Ah, Donnic.  You’re a great guard, but shit at the undercover work. _  I could almost see his chest plate and badge.  “What, you mean the cartels aren’t usually hanging out here in such numbers?”  I batted my eyelashes, but kept trading information.  There was the ‘engagement.’  I’d been ‘asked’ by Varric to keep an eye on things and make sure whatever deals went down tonight were at least not going to make Kirkwall any worse - and that the city got its cut.  Which meant I’d get one.  “He’s just grabbing drinks, he’ll be…”

“Right back.”  The deep, sexy voice came from behind me, and I took the shot glass as he kept the tumbler.  He hated going Hightown, but he cleaned up...well.   _ Quite  _ well.  I got more than a few disgusted looks, as various other guests realized he wasn’t likely to wander away from the legs he’d come in with - especially not with the jewelry I was showing.  The suit - black, of course - hid most of the tattoos along his body - and the thin leather gloves covered the rest.  His face just looked like something made up for the night.  With the top button undone and pop of the green kerchief in his pocket - oh, he cleaned up nicely indeed.  I basked in the heated glares from the other ‘ladies’ present, and no few of the gentlemen as well.

I knocked back the drink, felt the burn, and set it on a nearby table.  “Donnic - there’s kids missing.”

“Ones not in the Guard database of missing persons reports.”  Fenris added his piece, and even Donnic narrowed his eyes.

“That database is supposed to be law enforcement only.”

Fenris just gave a shrug, choosing to ignore the warning.  “Immaterial.  They’re not there, and that’s what matters.  Either they still don’t trust your fellows, the reports got ‘lost’ somewhere…”

This time, I finished the sentence.  “Or because they were all showing...signs, the families were afraid to report for fear you’d register them when you found them.  Only two of the four were Hightown.”

“Shit.  I’ll look into it - but not tonight.  Maybe we can work together.”  He shook his head, grabbed another coke - Maker, he was such a cop, didn’t even realize how much not drinking stood out here - and wandered off.  Trying to find the cartel heads, I was sure.  Not that he’d find anything they didn’t want him to.  The guard worked for the Viscount, too.  And they had to be informed - but I was here for the  _ real _ work.  The guard were just here to be seen, even if Donnic didn’t realize that.

Just then, Fenris’ hand whispered along a patch of exposed skin - one rather close to something that shouldn’t be.  Tempting, but I slapped his fingers away.  “Naughty boy - we do have things to do.”  I didn’t slap hard, though, and half his mouth rose in a faint smirk.  The bastard, he knew what that smirk could do to me.

“Later, then.”  He slipped the hand back into his pocket, and gestured with his tumbler.


	4. Chapter 4

It didn’t take long until I was chatting with one of the Carta lieutenants.  Krenteg wasn’t bad, for the Carta.  So long as you didn’t mind the leers.  He always gave fair value, but had a thing for humans.  The one good thing about wearing five-inch stilettos, and there  _ was  _ only one good thing, is that it gave me just enough height to move my...assets...above dwarven eye level.  I accepted the new drink, and sat down with him, Fenris keeping a polite distance from the tiny booth and turning on his ‘stay the hell away’ aura.

“What’re you doing here, Champion?  Or are you looking for a line yourself?”  Ah, dwarves.  Always straight to the deal.  Unless they were ‘artists’ like Varric, but there weren’t many of those.

I gave a smile for those watching.  “No, not my thing, as you know.  And I’ve never liked that title.”  But now I knew they were here for the lyrium - trade had fallen off hard, after the war and the Templars’ loss of numbers.  Harder still when the mages were on their own.  Less need, and even less money to go around.  “Actually - maybe you can keep an eye out for something - favor for a favor.  Gifted kids have been vanishing, and it’s not the Templars.  Anything odd in the shipping business over the last couple months that might match up?”

At that, the dwarf sat back, thoughtful.  I’d done more than a few favors for the Carta, though nothing recent.  Well, that one case where they were framed for a few particularly high-profile murders: I was paid by a victim’s family who wanted  _ real  _ answers.  They weren’t as happy when it turned out it was dear mother trying to get the insurance payout, but that’s why I always demanded my payment in cash, and in advance.  Either way, the Carta made it clear they were grateful - which let me call this one in.  “Nothing offhand, Hawke.”  He was willing to switch right over - just wanted it clear he knew who I was, and the power I had available.  Power I only had so long as I didn’t use it.  The Templars had made sure of that, over the years.  “I’ll ask around.  Send word.”

With that, I leaned over and kissed his cheek - his eyes almost popped out at the view.  Dwarves.  “Thanks, sweetheart.  Soon, if you would.  It’s kids, some of them Hightown.”

“You were always soft, Hawke.  I’ll stay in touch.”

“Stay out of trouble, Krenteg.  Viscount doesn’t mind the business, but is not in the mood for trouble.”

“We never cause trouble.  We’re just businessmen, looking for new markets and reestablishing old ones.”

And I was the Empress of Orlais.  Either way, Krenteg wasn’t terrible, and he had a point.  By and large, the Carta just wanted lyrium to flow.  The Carta also knew I’d been close to Varric back in the old days, and wasn’t going to risk pissing off the Viscount - and board member of the dwarven commercial conglomerate, up here on the surface.

As I got up to leave, Krenteg said one last thing.  “Look - just as one friend to another.”  I paused.  “The new cartels - they don’t always remember it’s just business.  Take things personal.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.  Not that I’m likely to cross paths with them, of course.”

The Carta lieutenant chuckled.  “Of course, Hawke.  Whatever you say.”

Fenris slipped an arm around my waist as I walked off, and then leaned down to murmur something in my ear.  “Krenteg’s right.  At least one of the cartels owns part of the dark web - identity theft, ransomware, black sites...it’s entirely cyber.  No idea why they are here, though.”

I chuckled and smiled back.  “Where are they?”  No one was going to notice yet another makeout session, not in the Rose, except for those annoyed with me for such a catch.  Eat your hearts out with envy - even if after so many years, I still wasn’t sure who had caught who.

“Young blonde in the shimmersuit, dark-haired dwarf watching from the corner.  How is it we’re the only ones who checked our weapons at the door?”  His voice was sour, despite the way he had me pulled up against him.

“You know how it is.”  I gave a practiced twist and smile.  Time to wander a bit more or I’d forget what I was doing here.  The two Fenris mentioned stood out from just a casual glance around.  And then, I saw someone I hadn’t been expecting.  Dark eyes and waving dark hair - why, if it wasn’t ‘Lady Travertine’ herself.  At least I was a bit less identifiable - I always wore a wig to the ‘office.’  Green eyes and dark red hair - no, I’d been on too many news broadcasts to use that for my public face.  A bit closer - and her Lowtown accent was gone, replaced by something...Antivan, possibly.  That was worth a raised eyebrow.  Either way, Fenris had found evidence of the child.  It was either an incredibly elaborate setup, or just one more layer of lies.

She turned my way - I pulled out my old Ferelden accent to order ‘something fruity.’  It was enough, as she turned back to her conversation partner.  Now he  _ was  _ Hightown.  The Senechal’s...cousin, if I remembered his face correctly.  He had the look of Bran.

I ignored the crusty old regular at the end of the bar, and he ignored me.  It let me sharpen my ears as I watched the crowds.

“I don’t know...why would you need it direct?”

‘Travertine’s voice snapped back an answer.  “Because we need more than we can get on the market, fool.”  It slipped back to something softer, pleading.  “You know what this would mean for your family, and for all our goals.  There’s no one else who can…”

There was a sigh, but my attention got pulled away.  More Guards.   _ Maker save us from idiots with a death wish and a badge.   _ It wasn’t going to be enough, though.  I could watch the different factions tense up.  I wasn’t the only one.  The ‘girls’ - and ‘boys,’ for that matter, who worked the Rose started drifting upstairs or into more discrete corners.  I caught Krentig’s eye and jerked my head toward the back door.  Good chance the Guard hadn’t figured it existed, yet.   _ He  _ wasn’t who I was watching, though - he had the shimmersuit girl leaning on her shoulder.

“You don’t belong here!”  A drunken shout from a scrawny guy by the dance floor - directed at one of the Templars.  Best of all, it came through as there was a break between dance numbers.  The pounding music wasn’t there to drown it out.  Great.  Just great.  “You and your immunity and your fanaticism!  Get out of here, or we’ll drive you out again!”  His eyes were focused.  Not as drunk as he seemed.  But  _ why  _ would anyone be stupid enough to pick a fight with a bunch of armed fanatics with Chantry immunity?  My elven shadow - there he was, moving in his unhurried way toward the bar, chatting with one of the Templars.  Doing his part to keep things calm, but I could see the tension in his hips and shoulders.  Now I wished we hadn’t taken on this job.

_ Magic.   _ I felt its whispers as it was drawn up - but I hadn’t seen any staves.  No Chantry-approved mages were here.  Well, that was just what this party needed to completely go to shit.  And I wasn’t the only one who felt it.  Templars tensed and pulled weapons as the air inside the club started to crackle.  The next song started up, the swirling, flashing lights and thumping beat suddenly punctuating the insanity.

Someone screamed, the sound piercing everything, as the first licks of flame appeared out of the air.  I fought a quick and dirty battle with my own instincts to keep from pulling on the Fade myself.  Donnic shouted something about arrest, I’m sure, lost in the chaos as the Templars tried to localize the mages and started shooting.  One dropped as he was hammered down by suddenly solid air.  A working girl shrieked as a bullet went through her arm, and the crusty regular ducked a lance of ice that shattered one of the bottles behind the bar before he went back to his beer.

That’s it.  Time to go, I decided.  Just - Fenris.  He was back-to-back with the Templar he’d been talking to, loose-armed and wary.  He was focused entirely on the man who’d kicked it all off, a faint smirk on his face.  Bastard.  The War had started here, and he wanted to kick it off again?  I couldn’t tell which of the two first looked my way, but the man’s sudden recognition wasn’t good.  

It got worse, as lightning flared out from him and circled my throat, sparking and tearing through Mother’s choker.  The pain was suffocating.  It blasted through the terror in Fenris’ eyes, the gunshots and shouting as the mage fell in a welter of blood bursting from his back.  My knees hit the floor.


End file.
